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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23063500">The Lonely</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel is a jerk, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Solitary Confinement, Victim Blaming, no betas we fall like angels, the author is back on their bullshit, yay that’s a tag now!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:40:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23063500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale didn’t bother pleading anymore. </p><p>He acquiesced the second the door opened, letting in the first light that Aziraphale had seen in… in… he wasn’t sure, he didn’t know how long he’d been in the Void. The door let in the first light that Aziraphale had seen in a very long time, and there was a figure silhouetted in it. Tall, broad, with perfect hair and an impeccably maintained suit. Of course, that could have described half of the angels of Heaven, but there was only one who ever came here. </p><p>“Gabriel…” Aziraphale said, and his voice came out as a rasp. He wasn’t sure… </p><p>Gabriel stalked into the room and grabbed Aziraphale by his lapels, dragging him into a biting, painful kiss, and Aziraphale gasped at the press of lips, the sudden swipe of tongue and nip of teeth, the touch and the smell and the taste utterly overwhelming after so long with nothing. </p><p>Ah. It would be one of those visits. </p><p>—<br/>After Armageddon, Crowley finds out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Lonely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from the Christina Perry song. </p><p>This is from a prompt on <a href="https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=2168921#cmt2168921"> Dreamwidth</a>. Short version: you know all those wonderful solitary confinement fics? That, but Gabriel comes to visit, and rapes Aziraphale while he’s in there. </p><p>If I forgot to tag for anything that I should have, please let me know!! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale didn’t bother pleading anymore. </p><p>He acquiesced the second the door opened, letting in the first light that Aziraphale had seen in… in… he wasn’t sure, he didn’t know how long he’d been in the Void. The door let in the first light that Aziraphale had seen in a very long time, and there was a figure silhouetted in it. Tall, broad, with perfect hair and an impeccably maintained suit. Of course, that could have described half of the angels of Heaven, but there was only one who ever came here. </p><p>“Gabriel…” Aziraphale said, and his voice came out as a rasp. He wasn’t sure… </p><p>Gabriel stalked into the room and grabbed Aziraphale by his lapels, dragging him into a biting, painful kiss, and Aziraphale gasped at the press of lips, the sudden swipe of tongue and nip of teeth, the touch and the smell and the taste utterly overwhelming after so long with nothing. </p><p>Ah. It would be one of those visits. </p><p>Aziraphale wrenched his head away, panting. “<i>Gabriel</i>–“ </p><p>Gabriel let go just long enough to slap Aziraphale across the face, knocking him to the floor. Aziraphale cried out, bright spots dancing in front of his eyes, and he felt Gabriel’s hand in his hair, forcing his face to the floor. </p><p>“Shut up,” the Archangel snarled. </p><p>Aziraphale’s clothes vanished, and he whimpered. He was facing away from the door. Away from Gabriel. All he could see was darkness, the ever-present nothing that defined the Void. </p><p>At least he could hear something. Smell something. <i>Feel</i> something. Even if it was this. Even if it was the tearing at his scalp, the press of nails against his crotch, forcing him to manifest an Effort– a vulva, not his preference, not that Gabriel knew or cared what that was. Even if the only thing he could smell was Gabriel’s scent, ozone and lavender and waves of lust. Even if the only noises he could hear were Gabriel’s breathing, and the distinctive sound of a zipper. </p><p>At least it was <i>something</i>. </p><p>Gabriel flipped Aziraphale onto his back with a grunt, and Aziraphale went. It hurt less if he didn’t fight. If he just went limp, didn’t resist, didn’t do anything to further enrage Gabriel. </p><p>Now he could see him, too, even shrouded in shadow as he was. Could see the faint glint of his violet eyes, the outline of his head, of his torso. </p><p>Gabriel shifted his hand from Aziraphale’s hair to his throat and squeezed, and Aziraphale choked, gasping for air that he didn’t need and knew wouldn’t come. </p><p>“Slut,” Gabriel hissed in his ear, lining himself up and thrusting in without ever letting up the pressure on Aziraphale’s throat. “Not even putting up a token resistance anymore, are you? Proves how much you want this. I should have known. You, with all your foul indulgences, you must fucking <i>love</i> this.” </p><p>Aziraphale lost his battle with his own instincts, and his hands flew up to scrabble at Gabriel’s, trying desperately and futilely to pry his hand away. </p><p>Gabriel laughed darkly and thrust again, the slap of flesh against flesh and the burning tear from his cunt flooding Aziraphale’s senses, overwhelming him. </p><p>Gabriel’s hand finally let up, and Aziraphale gasped for air, then cried out as Gabriel shifted instead to grab his leg, forcing it up and fucking him harder. </p><p>“Shut up,” Gabriel snapped again, and Aziraphale whimpered, pressing his mouth closed. If he was good enough, then maybe, perhaps, when Gabriel was done… </p><p>A moment later, Gabriel came with a groan, collapsing on top of Aziraphale and pinning him in place. </p><p>Aziraphale stayed still, stayed silent, letting Gabriel recover. Perhaps, perhaps, if he was good enough, then just this once– </p><p>Then Gabriel pulled out, snapped his fingers to clean and clothe Aziraphale once more, and left, slamming the door shut behind him once more. </p><p>Aziraphale stared into the unrelenting darkness, stared at the space where the door had been seconds ago, until he was no longer sure that the door had existed at all. </p><p>Gabriel wasn’t coming back. </p><p>Aziraphale curled up on the floor and sobbed. </p><p> </p><p>It hadn’t been like this the first time. No, the first time was… was more confusing. It had been just after the Ark, just after Aziraphale was caught trying to spare some children from God’s wrath. Crowley had already left with the children themselves, thank goodness, so no one but Aziraphale was punished for his misdeeds, but… </p><p>That had been the longest he’d ever been in the Void. It was more than fifty years before he was let out again. Fifty years in the darkness, the silence that swallowed his every word, the cold and the emptiness. Fifty years alone. </p><p>Nearly. </p><p>Gabriel had shown up once, and Aziraphale had dragged himself to his feet, silently thanking God and all the Archangels and whoever else might have been listening for his release. </p><p>But Gabriel had just stood in the doorway, staring silently at him, and Aziraphale had fidgeted nervously for a moment before asking, “Um, am I… is my punishment finished?” </p><p>Gabriel laughed. “No, you’ve got ten more years. I was just missing my favourite Principality, and I thought I’d stop by and visit.” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked at him, his jaw falling open. <i>Favourite</i>? “You… what?” </p><p>“Is that so unusual?” Gabriel asked, taking a step into the Void, reaching out to brush his fingers slowly down Aziraphale’s arm. “That I would want to visit you?” </p><p>Aziraphale shivered at the touch, the first he’d felt in forty years, not that he’d known that at the time. “You… here…?” </p><p>“You must be lonely,” Gabriel said. “After spending so much time on Earth, surrounded by so many humans, to be in here, all alone…” </p><p>Aziraphale had nodded mutely, not sure what was happening, not sure where this was going. </p><p>“But then, maybe not,” Gabriel said, shrugging. “You’re certainly not doing anything to convince me of your loneliness.” He took a step back, withdrawing his hand from Aziraphale’s arm, and Aziraphale whimpered at the loss. </p><p>“Gabriel–!” he breathed. </p><p>Gabriel paused, and Aziraphale couldn’t see his face, couldn’t see his expression, though he could see that his arm hadn’t dropped entirely. </p><p>“Do you want me to stay?” Gabriel asked. </p><p>Aziraphale nodded again. </p><p>“It’s too dark in here to see you,” Gabriel said. </p><p>“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed. “Yes, please, please don’t– please don’t leave me here.” </p><p>“Hmm,” Gabriel hummed. “I’m a very busy angel. If I was going to keep you company…” he reached out his hand again, and this time took hold of Aziraphale’s chin, brushing his thumb against Aziraphale’s lip, “I would need a good reason.” </p><p>Aziraphale leaned into the touch desperately, his eyes fluttering closed, and breathed out against Gabriel’s hand, “Please…” </p><p>“Please what?” Gabriel asked, and his voice was closer. Aziraphale opened his eyes. He <i>was</i> closer, leaning over Aziraphale, still barely touching him, and it… it was wrong. It was all wrong. Aziraphale didn’t want… </p><p>“I’ll see you when your punishment is over,” Gabriel said, taking a step back again, his hand starting to drop. </p><p>Aziraphale lurched forwards desperately, and Gabriel caught him, bringing their lips together. It was hot and sharp and painful and <i>so much</i>, after so long with nothing at all, and Aziraphale groaned into the kiss, desperate for… for <i>something</i>. He wasn’t sure what. </p><p>After a long, long moment, Gabriel drew back, just enough to speak. “Well. That’s one way to keep my attention. Though it probably won’t work for long.” </p><p>“Gabriel…” Aziraphale moaned. “Please…” </p><p>“Do you want me to stay?” Gabriel asked again. </p><p>And, well. No. No, Aziraphale didn’t want Gabriel to stay here. Aziraphale wanted to leave. He wanted out of the Void, and he never wanted to go back. </p><p>But then again... Having someone else here, having the door open, being able to see and hear and feel something, <i>anything</i>, even if it was <i>this</i>… </p><p>Well. That was better than being alone again, wasn’t it? </p><p>Aziraphale swallowed. “Please. Please don’t… don’t leave.” </p><p>Gabriel’s hand fell to Aziraphale’s shoulder, hard and heavy. “I’m very busy today.” </p><p>Aziraphale swallowed again, then sank to his knees, Gabriel’s hand still resting on his shoulder, almost pushing him down. </p><p>Gabriel stared down at him, his face still shrouded in shadow, though Aziraphale could feel his piercing gaze staring almost though him. </p><p>“Please,” Aziraphale breathed again, raising a hand slowly to Gabriel’s crotch, finding him already erect. </p><p>There was the faintest glimmer of what might have been teeth, bared in a smile or a smirk or something along those lines. “Convince me.” </p><p>And Aziraphale had. </p><p> </p><p>After that, he was never sure, when Gabriel visited, what he was going to get. Whether it would be like that first visit, or like this last one, or whether the visit would even happen at all, or if Gabriel’s first appearance in the Void would also be his last. </p><p>Though that last possibility grew less and less common over time. </p><p>Now, Aziraphale lay on his side, still curled up as small as he could be. His neck throbbed, and he was fairly certain that his face had bruised where Gabriel had slapped him. And, of course, between his legs… well. </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t do any miracles in the Void. Couldn’t heal himself, couldn’t halt the bleeding, couldn’t even vanish the cunt that he quite desperately didn’t want. He was left alone, powerless, helpless, his injuries throbbing in time with the beating of his heart, his eyes pressed shut to avoid their straining desperately for any sort of light. </p><p>He could feel the faint ghost of touches, hundreds of them, from dozens of visits. Soft and gentle, rough and bruising, all of them pushing him exactly where Gabriel wanted him to be. </p><p>There was no other way for Aziraphale to experience touch– not just here, but in general. Carnal relations between humans and angels were expressly forbidden after that mess with the Nephilim, and no angel would have him outside of the stifling darkness of the Void. Gabriel had made that quite plain. </p><p>And Crowley… </p><p>They couldn’t. Aziraphale couldn’t. Could barely even risk thinking about it. It was <i>far</i> too dangerous. Aziraphale loved Crowley, quite desperately, and he… well, he didn’t <i>know</i>, he could hardly be sure, preternatural beings didn’t emit love in the same way that humans did, but he <i>hoped</i> that Crowley… was fond of him, too, in one way or another. And… well. </p><p>But it was infinitely too dangerous. Even what little contact they had now was terribly risky, and Aziraphale simply wouldn’t allow for Crowley to be hurt on Aziraphale’s account. He couldn’t bear it. It had been nearly impossible to give him the holy water, a mere… how long ago had that been? How long had it been since he was taken? </p><p>When Gabriel was violent, he tended to come back fairly soon after. Once, Aziraphale had counted the seconds between Gabriel’s departure and his return– it had been three weeks before he came back. Long enough that the bruises on Aziraphale’s neck no longer bore the shape of fingers, but not so long that they were gone entirely. </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t bother counting this time. He was alone here, and he would be alone in here until Gabriel decided to have mercy, and either come back for more or let him go. </p><p>It might have been a day or might have been a month before Gabriel returned, standing silhouetted in the doorway as Aziraphale pushed himself shakily to his feet. </p><p>“Hey there, Aziraphale!” Gabriel said, and Aziraphale could almost hear the beatific smile in his voice. “Vacation time’s over, I’m afraid.” </p><p>“Ah,” Aziraphale said, and his throat hurt. So it couldn’t have been that long. “Right.” </p><p>“Let’s go get that paperwork squared away, and then we’ll send you back down,” Gabriel said, and as Aziraphale walked past him, he clapped him hard on the shoulder. </p><p>Aziraphale managed not to flinch. </p><p>Heaven was <i>bright</i>. Nearly blindingly so, especially after so long in the Void. Aziraphale blinked and winced, then miracled his eyes adjusted, not wanting to risk stumbling into Gabriel on the way to the exit. </p><p>Gabriel frowned, his eyes flitting over Aziraphale’s face. “You’ve got more bruises.” </p><p><i>You put them there,</i> Aziraphale thought but did not say. Arguing with his superiors could only earn him more time back in the Void, and that was the absolute last thing Aziraphale wanted right now. </p><p>“You know you can talk to us, right?” Gabriel said, and then his hand was touching Aziraphale’s arm, and Aziraphale fought back a shiver at the contact. “If you’re not feeling well.” </p><p>“I’m perfectly alright,” Aziraphale said. “I’m not… not hurting myself.” </p><p>Gabriel’s frown deepened. “Those bruises…” </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t know how to respond. He never did. Gabriel had done it, Aziraphale knew he had, he knew Gabriel’s touch and his voice and even his <i>scent</i>, lavender and lilacs and the calm before a storm, but the concern in his violet eyes seemed almost <i>genuine</i>, and Aziraphale’s stomach twisted guiltily. </p><p>“I’m alright,” he repeated, and it wasn’t so much a lie as a promise. “And, um, I ought to get back, oughtn’t I? Since I’ve been away for…?” </p><p>“Oh! Eighteen months, this time,” Gabriel said, shifting instantly back into professional friendliness. “Not long at all.” </p><p>Aziraphale forced a smile. “Quite.” Eighteen months. That would make it… sometime in August of 1987, if Aziraphale had his math right. </p><p>Heaven was bright, blindingly so, but it was also <i>empty</i>, the only sounds the echo of Aziraphale and Gabriel’s footsteps. </p><p>He was allowed to sign the last few papers in silence, making promises he had no intention of keeping not to help any more of the people he’d come to think of as his own as they wasted away and died, and then was deposited rather unceremoniously in his bookshop. </p><p>And, <i>oh</i>, that was too much. </p><p>Aziraphale gasped, dropping to his knees, as the sights and sounds and smells of London flooded him. Trucks and people and old books and dust and mid-afternoon sunlight and motion and textured carpets and drafts of air and the faint and distant stink of milk that had gone off– </p><p>Aziraphale pressed his hands to his ears, to his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, tears pricking the corners and threatening to spill, a sob wrenching its way out of his throat. </p><p>Eighteen months. It had only been eighteen months, this time. One of the shortest reprimands he’d ever served. And he was falling apart. </p><p>Another noise joined the chaos, louder and closer than the others– something inside the shop, something harsh and shrill. The phone. The phone was ringing. </p><p>Aziraphale staggered to his feet and across the shop, knocking over one of his precarious piles of books on the way. He picked up the phone, and somehow managed to stammer our, “H-hello?” </p><p>“Hey there, angel.” It was Crowley. “Welcome back to our dimension. How was Heaven?” </p><p>How did he–? Ah. Right. Aziraphale had gotten advance warning for this reprimand. He’d told Crowley he would be away. Crowley had known already. </p><p>Well. He’d known some of it. </p><p>“It was. Um. It was…” </p><p>“Boring as all get out?” Crowley supplied. </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale admonished, mostly to avoid having to answer the question. </p><p>Crowley laughed, and the sound was like a balm on Aziraphale’s heart. Oh, he was <i>really</i> far gone in this, wasn’t he? </p><p>“Right, so, I’ve gotta catch you up. What about dinner tonight? My treat.” </p><p>Aziraphale swallowed. “I. Um. I can’t… I’ve got… paperwork. To finish. Tonight. Maybe… maybe later this week?” </p><p>Aziraphale could <i>hear</i> Crowley’s frown. “Are you... are you alright, angel?” </p><p>Oh, Lord. He couldn’t tell Crowley. Not about this. “Perfectly! I’m perfectly alright, dear, not to worry. But. Um. I am busy tonight, I’m afraid.” </p><p>“Right,” said Crowley, sounding entirely unconvinced. “Um. Oh, a new restaurant just opened up that you’re either going to love or absolutely despise, I can’t wait to see which one it is. You’ll probably love it, knowing you. Japanese-French fusion. I’ll get us reservations for Friday, nine o’clock. Don’t be late.” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.” </p><p>“Ngk. Okay. See you then, angel.” </p><p>And then the line went dead, and Aziraphale hung the phone back up and sank to his knees. </p><p>He hadn’t the faintest idea what day of the week it was. He’d need to find himself a newspaper sooner rather than later. </p><p>Not now, though. Not now. Right now… right now, he curled back up into a ball, closing his eyes again, pressing his hands to his ears. The bruise on his cheek, on his neck, the tears lower down, all ached. </p><p>Aziraphale sucked in a shaky breath, and did his very best not to cry. </p><p>### </p><p>Thirty-two years and one failed Apocalypse later, Crowley sat in what had to be Gabriel’s office, based on the plaque on the desk, testing the bonds at his wrists. They held. Of course they did. They’d been miracled up by Uriel themself, a little bit of pressure wasn’t going to undo them. </p><p>The door opened and then closed, and Gabriel came around the desk, stopping to stand in front of Crowley, his hands folded behind his back and a beatific smile on his face. </p><p>Crowley wanted nothing more than to punch him. Aziraphale had mentioned something, the night before at his flat, just before they’d swapped. Had said that Gabriel would be angry, had warned that Crowley should take care not to aggravate him, if possible. That aggravating him always made it worse. </p><p>Crowley wasn’t particularly worried– after all, he’d lived in literal Hell for a very long not-time before God had deigned to invent things like days to keep track of. He could handle a pissy Archangel. </p><p>Gabriel cleared his throat, and said, “Well. Quite the position we find ourselves in, Aziraphale, isn’t it?” </p><p>Crowley wasn’t sure what to say to that. Aziraphale would definitely say something, though. “I’m quite sure–“ </p><p>“I doubt that speaking is going to help your chances here, sunshine,” Gabriel said, his voice quiet, and Crowley shut up, blinking. </p><p>“I am disappointed in you, Aziraphale,” Gabriel continued, taking a step closer. Too close. He was almost looming over Crowley, his violet eyes ice-cold. “But we both know I’ve been disappointed in you before.” </p><p>Crowley felt a flare of fury in his chest at that, but he forced it down. Aziraphale never got angry at Heaven, even when he bloody well should have. “I think that in this case–“ </p><p>“In this case, your sins were more severe than they have been in the past. I could forgive your gluttony, pride, greed…” He leaned down and took hold of Crowley’s– <i>Aziraphale’s</i>– chin, brushing his thumb across his bottom lip. “Even <i>lust</i>.” </p><p>Crowley jerked his head back, and Gabriel let go, tutting softly. “Treason is a little harder to forgive. But I can be… convinced.” </p><p><i>Convinced</i>? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? </p><p>“W-well. When you think about, about all of the humans who would have suffered–“ Crowley stammered. </p><p>Gabriel sighed heavily. “You really are stupid, aren’t you? Or maybe I just need to lock you up for a little while to jog your memory.” He leaned a little closer, his breath almost ghosting over Crowley’s– <i>Aziraphale’s</i>– lips. “You’re always so very <i>convincing</i> in the Void.” </p><p>All at once, Crowley understood exactly what Gabriel was asking for, exactly what he was implying, and his blood ran cold. “No.” </p><p>“No, you don’t want to go to the Void?” Gabriel asked, still far too close, but Crowley physically couldn’t lean back any further. “You know how to keep me interested, sunshine.” </p><p>“Get <i>off</i> of me!” Crowley yelped, and oh, he <i>hated</i> the way his panic sounded in Aziraphale’s voice. </p><p>Gabriel raised an eyebrow, not moving back. “What was that?” </p><p>“<i>No</i>, Gabriel,” Crowley said, hoping desperately that his terror wasn’t bleeding through too obviously. Because he was terrified– yes, he had lived in Hell for who-even-knows how long, and yes, he’d spent six thousand years on Earth after that, but he’d never had someone do <i>this</i> to him. Try to <i>force</i> him. </p><p>He couldn’t be afraid, though. Not here. Not now. Aziraphale wouldn’t be afraid. </p><p>He was doing this for <i>Aziraphale</i>. </p><p>Instantly, Crowley’s resolve hardened. He couldn’t let this fucking <i>bastard</i> hurt his angel any more. Never again. </p><p>Gabriel drew back, ever so slightly. “Are you turning me down?” </p><p>“I am,” Crowley said, and his voice didn’t waver. “I won’t do what you want any longer.” </p><p>Gabriel’s face clouded over in rage. “You’re going to fucking regret that, sunshine.” </p><p>Crowley braced for pain, for shouting or a slap or whatever else may come, happy to take it if it meant Aziraphale didn’t have to. </p><p>But then Gabriel turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Crowley alone once more. </p><p>###</p><p>They survived. The prophecy was on the money, and they both <i>survived</i>, and Aziraphale sat in the Ritz across from the love of his life, both of them happy and <i>free</i> in a way they never had been before. Aziraphale was quite certain that he would start glowing if he got any happier, and based on the look on Crowley’s face, the demon was coming up with plans to try and make that happen. </p><p>After desseet, they made their way back to the bookshop, and Aziraphale cooed over his restored books and frowned skeptically at the new additions before deciding to put off his re-inventory until tomorrow in favour of splitting a bottle of wine with Crowley, who had paled visibly at the sight of the bookshop but was now rapidly returning to normal. </p><p>They both sat on the sofa, legs pressed together, and Aziraphale thrilled slightly at their closeness, even as he rambled on. Just after his second retelling of Crowley’s trial in Hell, a thought occurred to him. “How did Heaven treat you, dearest? You haven’t said yet. I do hope it wasn’t too awful.” </p><p>The smile fell of Crowley’s face, and he cleared his throat. “It was, ah. Um. It was. It was…” </p><p>“You don’t have to lie to me,” Aziraphale said, his voice soft. “I <i>have</i> lived with them for six thousand years. I know what they can be like.” </p><p>Then he realised. If Crowley had been up in Heaven in Aziraphale’s body, alone with the Archangels... alone with <i>Gabriel</i>... “Unless you’d rather– oh, Lord. Gabriel didn’t– did he? Please tell me he didn’t...?“ </p><p>Crowley shook his head quickly. “No! No, he didn’t, he– but– but he <i>tried</i> to, and he said some stuff, and…” </p><p>Aziraphale felt as though his stomach had sunk to somewhere around the third circle. “Ah. My dear, I’m so sorry.” </p><p>Crowley frowned. “Why’re <i>you</i> sorry? You didn’t– from what he said…” </p><p>Aziraphale flinched. He couldn’t imagine what Gabriel had said about… about what happened between them, after all the Archangel tended to act like it had never happened at all whenever Aziraphale was outside of the Void, but it couldn’t have been anything <i>good</i>. “I, um. I suppose you deserve to know.” </p><p>Crowley’s frown deepened, and he set aside his glass and pulled his glasses off. “He tried to… to <i>force</i> me. I don’t… has he? Has he raped you, angel?” </p><p>Aziraphale winced. “It… it wasn’t really like that.” </p><p>Crowley raised one brow skeptically. “Wasn’t like what?” </p><p>“He… it…” Aziraphale sighed, looking away, feeling a flush rising in his cheeks. He didn’t really want Crowley to know. He didn’t want Crowley to know how <i>desperate</i> Aziraphale had been after what must have been a positively negligible punishment compared to what Crowley had suffered. Didn’t want Crowley to know what had been done to him. What he had done. </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley said softly, and Aziraphale’s gaze snapped back onto him. </p><p>Crowley’s gaze was achingly soft, his golden eyes warm and gentle. “You don’t have to tell me,” he breathed. “Not if you don’t want to. But… but you don’t have to deal with it alone, either. Yeah? Our own side.” </p><p>“Our own side,” Aziraphale echoed, feeling hollow. Would it still be, once Crowley found out? Or would he be sickened by it? Sickened by Aziraphale? </p><p>Either way, Aziraphale had lied to him enough. And it would surely hurt far more if the truth came out later. “You… you deserve to know.” </p><p>Crowley’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t protest. </p><p>Azirapahle sucked in a deep breath. “The first time was… was after the Flood. I was forty years into my reprimand when Gabriel came to visit.” </p><p>Crowley let out a choked sort of noise. “Forty <i>years</i>? What sort of a reprimand takes forty bloody years?” </p><p>Aziraphale winced again. “I’m sure that compared to Hell it was nothing–“ </p><p>“If it lasted <i>forty bloody years</i> then it definitely wasn’t nothing!” Crowley said. “What did they <i>do</i> to you, angel?” </p><p>Aziraphale took another deep breath, wanting desperately to hold Crowley’s hand but terrified of the reaction he would get if he attempted it. “It, um. Well. It was… it was a room, sort of. It was… pitch-black. There was no light at all. No light, no sound, no warmth. They would… I would step in, and they would close the door behind me, and I… I couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t feels anything, couldn’t hear anything, it was just… <i>nothing</i>. And then… then, when my punishment was over, Gabriel would come let me out.” He sighed. “For the first thousand years, at least.” </p><p>Crowley was silent, and when Aziraphale glanced up at him, his face was clouded over in fury. “Gabriel called it the Void.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s stomach plummeted again, and he reached out before he could stop himself, brushing the back of Crowley’s hand with his fingers. “Oh, they didn’t put you–“ </p><p>“No,” Crowley said quickly, shaking his head and turning his hand to lace his fingers with Aziraphale’s. </p><p>Aziraphale let out a trembling sigh, gripping Crowley tightly. His hand was warm and soft and gentle, the long fingers holding him fast, grounding him. </p><p>“They didn’t– I didn’t get anywhere near it,” Crowley said. “Pretty sure. But Gabriel threatened to put me– you– in there. Said it made you… <i>convincing</i>.” He grimaced. “That was what he was trying to do. Get me– you– to <i>convince</i> him to drop the charges.” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded, staring down at their conjoined hands, drinking in the sight of it, the <i>feel</i> of it, in case this was his last chance. “Yes, that… that does sound like what would happen.” </p><p>Crowley growled, low in his throat. “You said… when you were in there for <i>forty fucking years</i>…” </p><p>“W-well, technically the reprimand lasted just over fifty years,” Aziraphale said softly. “It was… it was about forty years into it that Gabriel came to see me. I think. He, um. He said that he wanted to visit me. And it was… it had been <i>so long</i> with <i>nothing</i>–“ </p><p>Aziraphale looked up, meeting Crowley’s eyes again even as his own blurred with tears. “Please don’t– please understand, I was– I was <i>desperate</i> for any sort of… well, anything. And I thought that maybe, if I was… if I did what he… what he seemed to want, if I… well… <i>convinced</i> him… he might let me go.” </p><p>He looked away again. He couldn’t read the expression on Crowley’s face, nor did he particularly want to. “It… it didn’t work. After he… finished… he just left. Closed the door again, and left. When he did let me out, it was like… like nothing had ever happened. Like I had imagined the whole thing. And… and, well, I almost began to think that I had, until it happened again.” Aziraphale swallowed nervously, closing his eyes against the tears. He had <i>no right</i> to feel like this, not over something he had <i>asked</i> for, not in front of Crowley, who must have faced so much worse. “That, um. That was how… about half the time, that was how it worked.” </p><p>Crowley squeezed his hand, ever so slightly, and Azirapahle looked up, his breath hissing in. </p><p>Crowley looked on the verge of tears himself. </p><p>“I’m so sorry–“ Aziraphale breathed. </p><p>“Half the time,” Crowley said, like he hadn’t heard Aziraphale, and maybe he hadn’t. He did look dazed, disbelieving. “You said… you said he did that half the time. What was… the other half…?” </p><p>Aziraphale looked away again, gripping Crowley’s hand a little bit tighter, drawing strength from the contact, from the surety of it. “Ah. Well. The… the other half of the time, it was… it was rather more… forceful.” </p><p><i>Bruising blows, choking hands, beating and tearing and taking until Aziraphale couldn’t even scream any longer.</i> </p><p>“It was… it was rather awful, to be perfectly honest,” Aziraphale breathed, and then he couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over, flowing down his cheeks. </p><p>Crowley let out a quiet, wounded noise, and Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut. “I… I’m terribly sorry, Crowley. I didn’t… I didn’t mean…” </p><p>“No, no, no,” Crowley said, his voice quiet, and when Aziraphale dared to glance up at him, he was shaking his head fervently, bringing his other hand in to cradle Aziraphale’s with aching gentleness. “Don’t be sorry. Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, angel.” </p><p>Aziraphale choked on a sob, half at the memories and half at the <i>care</i> in Crowley’s voice. “I… I <i>let</i> him… I never… I could have…” </p><p>“You couldn’t have,” Crowley said, still cradling Aziraphale’s hand, and suddenly, that wasn’t nearly enough. Aziraphale looked up, leaning in towards Crowley, and the demon scooped him up, pulling him into an almost-crushing hug, an arm wrapping around his waist and a hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, ever so gently, encouraging Aziraphale to bury his head in the crook of Crowley’s neck. He did so, his hands coming around to clutch at the back of Crowley’s jacket, as sobs wracked his whole body, five thousand years’ worth of fear and pain and shame all pouring out of him at once. </p><p>Crowley was still talking, murmuring quietly into Aziraphale’s ear. “It’s not your fault, angel. You didn’t have a choice. He hurt you. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.” </p><p>“I <i>asked</i> for it,” Aziraphale gasped. “I… I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again, I couldn’t… I couldn’t… I asked for him to stay, I let him do whatever he wanted, I <i>asked</i> him to take me because then at least there would be <i>something</i>…” </p><p>“He was manipulating you,” Crowley breathed, clutching Aziraphale tighter. “Of course you wanted to feel something after half a bloody <i>century</i> alone in a pitch-black room. It wasn’t your fault, angel. You’re so bloody <i>brave</i>, I can’t believe it. I’d have gone mad.” </p><p>“It must… it must seem like nothing,” Aziraphale sniffled, pulling himself a little bit closer to Crowley, soaking in the feel of him, pressed so close. “Compared… compared to Hell…” </p><p>“Yeah, no, it’s not nothing,” Crowley said, shaking his head, jostling Aziraphale slightly as he did, though neither of them moved away. “It is absolutely not nothing. Nobody in Hell would even have <i>thought</i> to come up with something so bloody messed up. Fifty <i>years</i> in a sensory deprivation room… I have no idea how you’re not mad, angel. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.” </p><p>“It wasn’t… wasn’t normally so long,” Aziraphale said. “Just… well. The Flood was the longest. They were quite cross with me for helping you with those children. But… the rest of them were… were much more manageable. Usually about three to five years. Less, sometimes.” </p><p>Crowley stiffened, his hand on Aziraphale’s back tensing. “How many bloody times did they throw you in there?” </p><p>Aziraphale winced. “Whenever… whenever I got a reprimand.” </p><p>“And how often was that?” </p><p>Aziraphale winced again. “Over the years? One hundred and twenty-eight times. I told you about most of them, I think. In a sense. Strongly-worded notes.” </p><p>Crowley hissed softly. “I should have bloody known, calling the Flood ‘tetchy’... And… and Gabriel…?” </p><p>“Ninety-seven, though a few of them… he would visit more than once, sometimes. Not often, but… sometimes.” </p><p>“Angel…” Crowley breathed. “I’m so sorry.” </p><p>Aziraphale blinked, then frowned. “Why are <i>you</i> sorry, my dear?” </p><p>“I should have… I dunno. I feel like I should have… should have seen it. They were <i>torturing</i> you, and I never–“ </p><p>Aziraphale let out a nervous sort of laugh. “It… come, now. It wasn’t… wasn’t like <i>that</i>.” </p><p>“Angel.” Crowley’s voice was firm as he drew back slightly, just far enough to take Aziraphale’s face in both hands, brushing away the tears still lingering under his eyes with his thumbs, his gaze achingly soft and gentle. “Angel. That was <i>torture</i>. It’s illegal in places here on Earth because it messes people up so badly.” </p><p>“But I’m not–“ Aziraphale began. </p><p>“We’re close enough to human, I figure,” Crowley said, his voice going soft once again. “And what you went through… I can’t believe how bloody <i>strong</i> you are, to have survived that. All of that. You are absolutely fucking <i>incredible</i>, angel.“ </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, leaning into the touch, his hands coming up almost unconsciously to grasp at Crowley’s wrists. </p><p>Crowley was still talking, still achingly gentle, unendingly <i>kind</i>, regardless of whether or not he would admit to it. “But we’re… we’re here now, angel. On our own side. Free. Safe, at least for now. And I promise, I swear to you, I’m here, and I’ve got you, and I am never going to let Gabriel touch you again.” </p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale said again, more like a sob than a word, as he collapsed forwards once more, pulling Crowley into another desperate embrace. </p><p>Crowley held him tightly, rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades, running his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls, breathing soothing words into Aziraphale’s ear as the angel sobbed. “Shh. I’m here. I’ve got you. Let it out, now. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Let it out.” </p><p>“Crowley, I love you,” Aziraphale gasped out. “I love you <i>so much</i>.” </p><p>Crowley’s arms tightened around him, drawing him in closer. “<i>Fuck</i>. I love you, too, Aziraphale, I love you, I’ve loved you for six thousand bloody years. I love you and I’ve got you and I promise, I’ll keep you safe. I swear to you, I will never let them hurt you again.” </p><p>Aziraphale drew back again, sniffling, his hands shifting to hold onto Crowley’s once more. “That’s supposed to be my job. Guarding.” </p><p>“You’ve been guarding the whole bloody world for six thousand years,” Crowley said, his voice gentle, pulling one hand free to wipe Aziraphale’s tears, cradle his face, and Aziraphale’s heart <i>ached</i> with love. “You’ve been guarding <i>me</i> for six thousand years. Will you let me return the favour?” </p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t do anything but nod, utterly overwhelmed in the best way. “Yes. Crowley… yes. I love you.” </p><p>Crowley smiled, soft and wavering and brimming over with love. “C’mon. Let’s head back to mine? Been a long day. I could use a nap, and I think you could use one, too, yeah?” </p><p>Aziraphale nodded again. “Yes, I… I think I’d like that. Please.” </p><p>Crowley beamed, gently pulling Aziraphale to his feet and leading them out to the curb where the Bentley was parked, despite definitely not having been there when they arrived at the bookshop. </p><p>As they made their way back, Crowley talked, inane chatter about everything and nothing, and Aziraphale clung to him like a drowning man to driftwood, letting the tide of the conversation, the warmth of Crowley’s touch, the gentle love in his gaze, pull him safely to shore. Back at the flat, Crowley snapped, dressing them both in incredibly soft pyjamas– black bottoms for him and a full beige set for Aziraphale, because “I love you, angel, but I am <i>not</i> manifesting tartan, you can do that yourself later,” and Aziraphale had laughed at the teasing and clambered into bed alongside his demon, curling up against him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and in a way, it was. </p><p>They lay there in silence for a long moment. </p><p>“Thank you,” Aziraphale breathed, tracing small patterns into Crowley’s chest. </p><p>“What for?” Crowley asked, tugging him infinitesimally closer. </p><p>“For… for listening. For not… for not hating me, once you found out. For always being there, whenever I needed you. You’ve been there for me for six thousand years, Crowley. I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you.” </p><p>“I could never hate you, angel,” Crowley said, nuzzling his nose into Aziraphale’s hair. “Especially not for this. I love you, and none of what happened to you– none of what Gabriel did to you– was your fault. I’ll always be here, when you need me. Yeah? Our own side.” </p><p>“Our own side,” Aziraphale echoed again, and this time it felt like a promise. “I love you, my dearest.” </p><p>“Ngk,” Crowley muttered, burying his face more firmly in Aziraphale’s hair. “I love you, too. Go to sleep, angel.” </p><p>Aziraphale smiled, warm and safe in Crowley’s arms, and slowly but surely fell asleep.</p>
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